


Western Bloodlust

by John_Marston



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Slow Burn, Vampire Bites, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-07-21 05:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Marston/pseuds/John_Marston
Summary: John Marston and Arthur Morgan are Dutch's personal bodyguards, keeping both powerful and supernatural enemies at bay.  Killing O'Driscoll boys was expected. Hunting vampires was not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter focuses on John during and after a hunt, more to come though! Arthur will be joining in the next chapter so be patient, thanks!

John took a slow draw from his cigar, eyelids half shut, looking like he might fall asleep at any moment. He followed the movement in the woods as far as he could in the dark, lifting himself from the dirt begrudgingly. He snuffed out what was left of the cigar on the bottom of his boot and tossed it aside. "I gotcha…" He murmured under his breath, wrapping his fingers around his weapon. He remembered Dutch warning him that guns wouldn't do any good for this hunt, and despite thinking he knew better, he followed orders. He silently tread through the tall grass, sure to avoid anything that would give him away, this was incredibly important, the element of surprise. He hung his head and pulled his hat down low on his brow, exhaling the sigh he had been holding since he stood. He followed every little sound his prey made as it clumsily made its way through the trees, making sure he kept a discreet distance.

His grip tightened on the stake, so much that he could have sworn the wood creaked in his fingers. He advanced, quickly but quietly, doing his damnedest to not disturb the beast in front of him, it was now crouching low to the ground, he watched on and took notice of it feeding on a rabbit, the poor creature bucking and kicking in its grasp. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and readied himself, upon opening them, he attacked, charging forward and slamming his fist down onto the monster's back, stake burrowing deep into its flesh. It released a pained screech as it crumpled, body thrashing as it tried with the last of its energy to reach the stake and pry it out. John just stamped the stake and buried it further, no empathy in his eyes. He didn't think of them as people, Dutch said it gets easier if you don't, besides they aren't human. How could you sympathize with a bloodsucker?

When he returned, he gathered his things and packed them into his saddlebags, patting his mare solidly to calm her. She stomped lightly at the ground, making it clear she was anxious to go, and John couldn't lie, so was he. He mounted up and took a quick scan of his campsite to be sure he hadn't left anything, then started the journey back home. His joints were stiff from all the time he had spent keeping watch of the area, eyes sore from all the squinting he had done in the moonlit brush. He cursed softly and rolled his shoulders, travelling onward and keeping an eye out on the way. Dutch did this often, either to him or to Arthur, sent them on wild chases of enemies or marks, but these were always different, didn't quite sit right with any of them. They didn't feel guilty for it, but they weren't sure of what all of this would bring on them, weren't sure what kind of hell there was to pay for these deeds.

By the time he arrived at camp everything was quiet, not grim or worrying, just settled down. A fire was still lit, just as there always was when he returned from these dealings, his supper was still resting by it, just as it always was, he had Dutch guarantee his food wouldn't be meddled with after the first hunt, when he had to sleep on an empty stomach. He seated himself at the table and wasted no time in shoveling the stew into his mouth, it was no longer warm, but he was too hungry to care. He was always sent out to these things without food before or during, Dutch said it was for motivation, John was sure he was taking the piss, but knew better than to say so. He slid the empty bowl away from him when he was through, relieved from the new weight occupying his stomach. He raised himself with a grunt, heading to his tent for a solid rest, he would report back in the morning, as soon as he had gotten a fair amount of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is introduced, and the new hunt begins

Sunlight splintered through the fabric of John's tent, beating down on his closed eyes, he groaned lazily. He fully intended to stay hidden in his blanket all day, but that just wasn't in his cards today. Someone pushed their way into John's humble home and cleared their throat, causing a spike of annoyance in the man. "Marston," The intruder bellowed, sounding just as smug as he usually did, whether it was while fetching John or berating him. "Arthur, get the hell outta my tent, can't ya see I'm sleeping?" John griped, yanking his covers up over his face. Arthur laughed, and that struck another chord with John, but not one of annoyance, this was one of the few things that Arthur did that didn't grate on his nerves. "I'm serious, go on now, let me sleep," John attempted a half-assed command, knowing well that Arthur didn't answer to anyone but Dutch, and even that was beginning to fall away.

Arthur tugged the covers away from the frail man swiftly, still giving that same grin, he knew what he was doing. He loved messing with John. John pushed himself up and scrubbed a calloused hand over his face, his entire body was heavy and he felt unbearably groggy. "That's it, now, get up, Marston, we have a job that needs to get done, me 'n you." Arthur sighed, voice no longer sounding so demanding, now he seemed a little sympathetic to John's situation. When John bothered to look up at the other man, he noticed the dark circles, the messy hair, messier than Arthur would normally let it get. He had almost forgotten that Dutch had sent them both out last night, it didn't look like Arthur was lucky enough to get any sleep, he looked awful. "Jesus, Arthur, you look like shit," John declared, letting out a drained laugh. Arthur cuffed the side of John's head and snorted at the comment, helping him up.

They both got ready, neither of them really feeling up to it, but at the same time, they got paid well when they worked, and if they refused, they didn't eat well, so it just made sense to go. They both mounted up when they were clean and decent and started off towards Valentine. Of course Arthur, being the golden boy, would know about the mission first, even if John had been the first to rise, Arthur would still be aware of everything before him, just how things ran around there. John slowed to a trot once the camp was out of view, leaning forward to feed his mare a wild carrot, taking the chance to look up at Arthur, then straightened, observing the man as much as he could without being noticed. He cleaned up nice, he could give him that. He shook his head to banish the thoughts, he was almost sure they hated each other, it had been that way since John had first come along, another wayward soul adopted by Dutch.

Arthur pulled the reins, leading them towards a church, a ratty old thing, looked like it was falling apart. Shit, John didn't even know how they got here, he had just blindly been following Arthur's lead the whole way, they were nowhere near Valentine, he was almost positive of that, he hadn't seen this place before. They climbed down and hitched their horses, heading towards the building. "So, you got me, Arthur, why are we here?" John huffed, kicking a few pebbles with the toe of his boot. Arthur shushed him and lead him inside, the floorboards creaking beneath them shallowly. "You gonna answer me now?" John prodded, running his fingers along a dusty pew. "Clues, John, keep your big mouth shut so I can look." Arthur shot back, now digging through a donation box, pulling out crumpled bills and tarnished coins. He sighed and shuffled through one of the bibles instead, flipping through the pages slowly.

He settled on a page, marked with a note wedged inside, the ink was smudged, but not so much that he couldn't make it out. "I got it, John, I think this is it, we need to go to the creek a little ways away from here and wait." He explained, sounding inconvenienced by the fact he even had to say anything at all to John, like the younger man should already be caught up with it all. "So what is it this time? We after O'Driscolls or Leeches?" John piped up, now sitting, with his legs propped up on the pew in front of him. Arthur grabbed the shoulder of his shirt and lifted him from the seat, leading him to the door. "This ain't a vacation, ya need to get off your ass." Arthur barked lowly, releasing John and heading back to the horses. John walked faster to catch up, glaring holes into the back of Arthur's head. Dutch really needed to rethink shoving them together on hunts, it nearly killed John each time he had to trudge along behind Arthur. He would eventually figure out what they were doing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt continues and ends, Arthur will soon have a hard decision to make.

They had been waiting at the creek for hours, going through countless cigarettes and anecdotes, Arthur telling John about the few enjoyable memories he had from his childhood, John reminding Arthur about the week after Dutch had brought him to the gang. John wasn't really one for small talk, but he couldn't shut up around Arthur, he would never run out of jokes, never run out of insults either. He saw a crinkle in the corners of the older man's eyes, he looked happy, even though John always felt like a nuisance to him. The sun was beginning to set, naturally, John decided to start a fire, but before he had a chance to catch a spark, Arthur smacked the flint from his hand. "Nah, we can't do that, not this time, we can't be seen." He chided, nudging dirt over the kindling John had collected. John felt the need to complain barreling from his chest and up his throat, but he pushed it right back down, choosing to just make nice for once.

Arthur enjoyed how passive John was being, the man was a loudmouth and a spitfire, but today he was more eased, harder to rile up, as much as he loved pissing John off, he could use the calm today. His hunt had gone off without a hitch, last night was long, but worth it, he was compensated well for his lack of sleep, he was used to being a sort of enforcer for Dutch, he didn't flinch at the idea of killing. John called them 'Leeches', he supposed that it wasn't inaccurate, considering how they spent their free time. Arthur didn't bat an eye at disposing of them, they weren't people anymore, they were worse than animals to him, without souls or remorse. He felt they were doing the world a favor by killing the beasts, and he was sure John felt the same way. He looked over to John, smile half-cocked and eyes kinder than normal. "Marston, ya look tired, I'll keep watch." He murmured under his breath.

John wasted no time in pushing his blanket out and wrapping up in it to rest, he had been aching for a nap since he'd first woken up. Arthur just shook his head and went with it, straightening his back against a tree and keeping watch just like he promised. Every once in a while he caught his gaze drifting away from the creek and down to John, most people looked peaceful in their sleep, John looked damn near angelic, with the remnants of the sunlight dappling his skin. Arthur cast the thought away and furrowed his brow, it was wrong, he made himself remember how much they disliked each other, how long their conflict had dragged on. He was sure John hated him by now, just as he used to think he hated John. The final beams of light finally retreated past the trees, further and further from them, slithering beyond where even his sight could reach. It was at this time that he gave John a light kick to his hip, whispering for him to start waking up. It was almost time.

John grumbled- he always grumbled, and griped, and whined,- as he woke up, he stopped himself though, because Arthur had been generous enough to let him get some shut eye, and he wasn't going to take that for granted. He rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes and grabbed his weapon, crawling to sit beside Arthur. He chanced a low whisper, "Arthur, what did that note say?" He squinted and tried to read Arthur's expression. "It was a map for a haunt, said that a monster resided here, Dutch had heard about this place, those Leeches swarmed it, a couple hung back. Let's just hope we find one." Arthur replied in a hushed tone, settling a hand on John's shoulder. "Now just try to listen out, I need your ears on this." He continued, holding his own stake now. He began to move away from John, creeping towards a sapling some yards away, settling there so they could cover a bit more ground.

Tonight was comfortably warm, that's what set John off the most when a chill shot from his neck and down his spine. He exhaled, a puff of steam leaving his lips as it touched the now cold air. He shot a look towards Arthur, who must have had the same idea because he turned to meet John's eyes. Arthur put a finger to his lips, then continued to watch the woods, the water, whatever could alert him to the creature's presence. It wasn't the crunch of dry leaves or the snap of twigs, or even a splash in the water that alerted him, though, it was the solid thud and muffled cry that came from John's direction. He tried to make out what John was struggling against, when his eyes adjusted to it, his blood ran cold. John was screaming against the sickly pale hand of a Leech, terror in his eyes. He thrashed violently, throwing punches and kicks as hard as his body would allow. Arthur launched himself towards the two, stake in hand, and knocked the beast to the ground. He wrapped his hand around its neck solidly to keep it still, eyes reflecting a rage he didn't know he was still capable of.

He made quick work of the Leech after some struggling, he always did, he was a very broad man, and Leeches all seemed to be very frail, he had yet to see one that wasn't all bone and almost exposed tendon, but he also wasn't very seasoned in hunting them. He pried the wood away from the corpse and turned his attention to John. "Ah, fuck, John… John!" He called, settling a warm hand on the other man's cheek. John's body was jerking, eyes wide and wild and unblinking as his mouth let out a string of soft chokes. His own hand was clamped over his neck, blood pooling through his fingers. Arthur felt his heart drop. This was wrong. John Marston was too much of a stubborn ass to die like this, so quickly, without much of a fight. "You damned fool, why couldn't you have held it off for a little longer?" He croaked out, anger draining away to expose his misery. Arthur was right though, even through his erratic thoughts. John Marston wasn't going to die this way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur works on making his decision, John is made aware of his new condition.

John awakened, feverish and clammy, he felt like his veins were full of fire, but at the same time, his skin was ice cold. He felt he would have lost his lunch, if he had bothered to have eaten at all. He stretched his jaw, a few popping noises erupting from it, his gums ached something fierce and his neck wasn’t feeling much better. He squinted, searching the ground for a sign of Arthur. When he decided to sit up, he found his wrists to be bound. This angered him, being the rowdy, compulsive idiot that he was, and everybody knew him to be, he threw a fit, he kicked and hollered and threatened, he spat and swore up and down that whoever did this would meet God soon enough. The rustle of dead leaves threw him off of his tangent and his annoyance ebbed away when his eyes locked onto Arthur, stepping cautiously over to him with a skinned rabbit hanging out of his fist. “You’re awake…” Arthur sighed, squatting down to be as level as he could with the smaller man.

John writhed where he lay, holding his wrists out for Arthur to view. “What’n the hell is this about, Arthur? Why’ve you got me sitting here like a goddamn bounty?” He hissed softly, half due to irritation and partially because all of his wiggling had made his neck burn with pain. Arthur looked hesitant to answer him, like an officer about to report to someone the death of their spouse. This just made John more irate. “Spit it out, Morgan, what the fuck is going on?” He spat, trying to sound like he wasn’t scared out of his wits. It was coming back to him, he knew he was attacked, he just didn’t want to admit it, he denied that the throbbing in his neck was from a bite. He was going to be sick, he knew what Arthur was going to say, he just wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it or not. “John,” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You got bit, I should’ve protected you, ‘n I would have, it just happened too fast.” He continued, teeth baring into his lip. He tasted copper.

He winced at the words, disbelieving that they had been spoken at all, he was thrown into a tailspin, unsure of how to process the information. “I tied ya up ‘cause I wasn’t sure if you’d try anything, I didn’t know where your mind would be when you came to.” Arthur reasoned, helping John sit up and brushing the dirt from his face. “I cleaned up the wound as best as I could, I wasn’t sure what else to do.” He finished, turning away to work on a fire. John was in shock, not sure whether speaking would help or hurt, he was almost in awe that Arthur felt any guilt at all for the situation, seeing as it wasn’t his fault, and Arthur didn’t seem to like him anyway. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Arthur, I’ve got my wits about me still, you can see that, can’t you?” John pleaded, holding his wrists up once again. “Turn me loose, I won’t hurt anybody, you know damn well I can’t go back to camp, Dutch will have me-...” He stopped, realization cutting the sentence off. “No… Arthur, surely you aren’t considering… You’re not planning on taking me back, are you?”

Arthur prodded at the growing fire with a stick, he looked as though he was sulking, his shoulders rose, then fell. He really didn’t know what he planned to do. John was right, Dutch would have him killed if he found out, but on the other hand, Arthur couldn’t be sure John could control himself. What if he brought him back to camp? What if he brought him back and he really had no sense left? Their friends and family could just be a buffet to him, Arthur didn’t want to take that risk. He flayed the meat from the rabbit's carcass and set it up to cook, focusing on the color slowly changing as it heated. He was thankful that John had given up on talking, he needed some time to mull things over. He removed the rabbit from the fire and sliced it, turning back to John. "You hungry? I mean… do you still wanna eat this stuff or…?" He questioned weakly, offering out a cut of meat. John eyed it for a moment and smiled when he found that, yes, he did still want to eat it. He held out his bound hands, turned just enough to expose his palms, which Arthur dropped the meat in, then raised them to his face and ate ravenously. This put Arthur somewhat at ease.

After they both finished the small meal, they got back down to business. Arthur argued that John didn't know for a fact there weren't new heinous instincts he had adopted from being bitten, and John argued that if he was going to kill anyone, it would be Arthur, and rope likely wouldn't get in the way of that if he was as bloodthirsty as Arthur kept trying to let on. Eventually the back and forth banter resulted in a very exasperated Arthur pulling out his hunting knife. "I'll cut you loose, but you ain't running off, you're staying with me until I can figure out what to do, and I don't want any fuss about it from you." Arthur explained, laying his terms out clearly. John nodded along eagerly, he would agree to about anything if it would get him out of his bindings. So, that was that, Arthur sawed away the rope and John finally relaxed, slumping against the tree he had been propped against. "Thank you, for saving my hide back there, feller seemed intent on draining me." John sighed modestly.

Arthur smiled humbly and shook his head. "No thanks needed, who else am I supposed to torture if you die?" He chuckled, picking food from his teeth with a nail. "Besides, I did what we were sent here to do, kill a Leech." He added, trying to dismiss any feelings of comradery that were trying to arise. John looked tired, more than just a lack of sleep, he looked like death had chewed him up and spit him back out, and essentially, that's what happened. Arthur tried to focus on how pale John had gotten, or the fact that two of his teeth had started to bud a bit past the bottom of his upper lip, even the fact that his hair looked especially greasy today. No matter what he thought of, something else intruded, John's droopy eyes and the way they still looked like they were pleading for comfort, or his lips, which were parted slightly in a pout, how Arthur wanted to kiss him. He shook his head in an attempt to sober himself from the ideas, it would never happen, especially not now, now that John was like this.

The best thing for Arthur at the moment was to forget about those things, he would only be hurt in the long run at this point. He just needed to focus on helping John get better, then coming up with a plan to keep him safe if he could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at camp, the boys have a little talk and the pining gets stronger

Arthur stayed awake for two nights, racking is brain, while John tried to ease his own. Both of the men had been restless, eyes ringed with dark circles, lips chapped from chewing and a lack of water, they were so drained that neither of them could bring themselves to sleep, bodies so heavy that they could no longer become comfortable enough to rest. John hadn't spoken much, and neither had Arthur, they didn't know what to say. What do you say when someone is turned into a monster? Is there any sort of etiquette for sympathizing with a vampire? Arthur just wished that John would say something, he could call him a bastard for failing to save him, he could spit in his eye, he missed the younger man's voice. John looked up at Arthur with hooded eyes, a certain misery swimming behind his pupils. "Arthur..." He piped up, voice cracking from disuse. Arthur perked up, eager to hear anything John had to say, it had only been a couple of days, but it seemed like ages since they had spoken. "Arthur, I want to go back home, I'll hide the marks, I'll be careful. I'm tired of sleeping on the dirt, I'm hungry, I want to go." John griped, pushing himself away from the ground.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, ready to follow John if he decided to walk away. "John, are you sure? You know the risks, you know what Dutch will do if he finds out." Arthur reminded him, collecting their blankets and disassembling the rest of their camp. John sighed, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders, packing his things onto his horse. "I don't care, Arthur. I wanna go home, I wanna go to bed, I wanna eat supper with my friends." John grumbled, heaving himself up onto the mare. "I won't say nothing, and I hope you'll do the same." He added, waiting for Arthur to mount before starting up a sluggish trot. They rode side by side, taking the long way back to camp, something Arthur suggested, so they could think about things a bit more. The closer they got to camp, the more anxious Arthur became, but he noticed John grow calmer. How was he so unafraid? Arthur shook his head, lips curling up into a soft grin, teeth peeking out a bit. That was John for you, didn't give a damn, even if his life depended on it, Arthur wasn't sure if it was too much confidence or too little intelligence, he didn't let it bother him, he wouldn't want John any other way.

By the time they arrived, supper was getting ready and the sun was eating lower in the sky, hiding behind the treetops. Dutch gave them a congratulatory speech, running off at the mouth about how without them and their specific skills he wasn't sure what he would do. John hid the bite beneath his shaggy hair and nobody turned their attention to it. Abigail settled beside him with Jack and they ate supper, like John wanted. Arthur sat on the other side of camp with his food, catching himself any time his eyes began to wander towards the other man. He knew that John and Abigail had split, but he also knew they were still close friends and he didn't even know what he was feeling for the man, he knew he would feel wrong if he got mixed up in something because of emotions he couldn't quite place. He plunked a piece of cornbread into his stew, sopped up some of the broth, then shoved it in his mouth. Eating distracted him from the fluttering in his stomach, replacing the queasiness with a heavy warmth. He knew that, eventually, he would need to sort all of this out, he wasn't ready though, he wasn't sure there would ever be a time that he would be ready.

He didn't expect much more excitement for the rest of the night, they weren't going to be heading out for any missions for the next few days, a well deserved break. He stretched across his blankets stiffly and opened his journal to a blank page, beginning a new sketch. At first, it started with the church, soft pencil strokes forming bricks and wooden panels, then he moved on to the stream. He usually did these things before leaving the area, but he didn't feel much like drawing, or doing anything for that matter, after John was hurt. His lines became shaky, constantly having to be erased and redone, leaving smudges on the paper. He still blamed himself, he wasn't sure if he would ever stop, he wondered if John would forgive him. Did John even blame him? Arthur let out a heavy breath, closing the book and shoving it beneath his pillow, desperately trying to force himself to sleep. He drifted further from consciousness, albeit slowly, and settled himself into a light sleep. John pushed the flap of Arthur's tent open slowly, peeking through the fabric at the man. He stepped inside and settled himself at the foot of the bed, placing a hand on Arthur's knee and giving it a solid shake.

Arthur stirred awake reluctantly, still not quite lucid when his eyes began to open. "Mm… John?" He groaned quietly, voice low and thick. A gentle smile crossed his face, partially amused, partially bashful, this was turning out to be a decent enough dream. He continued about his way, watching John and beginning to fall back into his slumber, head bobbing twice before he let himself slide back onto his blankets. John shook his head and delivered a few firm taps to Arthur's temple, proceeding until he woke back up. When Arthur saw John this time, he immediately shot upright, sliding away from the younger man. He cringed inwardly at the murky memory of waking up the first time. "Yeah, John?" He murmured, shoving his bangs from his forehead. "I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to thank you for helping me, even if you were a little late, you still saved my life, and you covered for me when we came back." John explained quietly, afraid someone might hear, though he was sure everyone was asleep. Arthur huffed and began to lay back down, tugging a blanket up over his shoulders and rolling onto his side. "You know you don't have to keep thanking me, Marston, I wasn't gonna just let you die. You need to go get some rest," Arthur chided, giving the other a nudge with his foot to shoo him from the tent.

John rolled his eyes and nudged Arthur right back, a little rougher than he intended. "You're not listening, I wanted to talk. I know that things won't ever be the same as they were before, but I was hoping we could still be civil." John explained, mouth moving quickly and eyes focused on the dirt. Arthur snorted softly and chuckled, a warm, rumbling noise that sounded like affectionate thunder, it made John shudder, it made him feel secure. "John, I don't care what you are, I don't care what happened, as far as I'm concerned, we can forget it ever happened." Arthur placed his hand over John's and gave a light squeeze, an attempt to reassure the other man and add more impact to his words. John's body quickly crumpled, tension flooding out of his muscles, and he let himself breathe. He looked up and into Arthur's eyes and laughed, he wasn't sure why, but he just felt that it was appropriate. He felt like he had just narrowly escaped certain doom, which was ironic, considering that he had, in fact, done so, but he hadn't felt this relief until Arthur made it known that they were on good terms. He didn't know what had changed, but he was feeling something different for Arthur, the man didn't get under his skin so much now, he made John feel like he could walk on air. He wasn't sure he had ever felt like this before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets into a drunken fight with Bill, Arthur begins to open up to someone who may be able to help him sort his emotions.

Arthur opened his eyes in a field of tall grass, golden and flowing in the air like waves. He rose to his feet, which were now bare and cool against the earth. His eyes locked onto a buck and he began to approach, quiet and determined. He stalked towards the animal, watching its heavy breaths collecting in the air as dense bubbles. Arthur knit his brows and took a deep breath as well, testing if it was actually possible. Where was he? He reached forward and grazed his fingertips across the buck's fur gingerly, surprised he didn't spook it. The buck snapped its attention in another direction, huffing through its nose loudly and scraping a hoof on the ground. Arthur followed the gaze and spotted the creature starting the distraction, a wolf. His breath caught in his throat, but for whatever reason, he didn't feel like he needed to run or defend himself. The wolf came closer, limping towards them with purpose, eyes intensely watching the man and the deer. Arthur knelt unhurriedly, one hand staying against the buck, the other stretching towards the wolf, fingers twitching in anticipation.

The roar of a gunshot pulled him back to reality harshly, ripping the air from his lungs. He rushed out of bed and grabbed his pistol, pushing himself out of the tent without anything more than a gun and his long johns. He scanned the camp with tired eyes, heart pounding so fiercely, he thought it might shoot from his chest. He heard another shot, then an amused holler, and followed the ruckus, meeting with John and Bill, the two more than a bit tipsy. Bill was able to handle his liquor better than most people, and John was too stubborn to let someone out-drink him. Bill was laughing heartily and grasping John's wrist, trying to wrestle his gun away. "What the hell is going on? You're acting like a bunch of fools," Arthur barked, setting his own gun down on the table and taking John's as well. "That's right, get your boy before he starts something he can't finish." Bill teased, pushing John away and sitting on one of the benches. John looked unhinged, eyes wild and wet with tears, his face was flushed from anger and alcohol, and Arthur wasn't sure why he was the first to stop the situation. As he took another look around, he noticed most of the gang was gone, must have gone to town again, either way, the last thing any of them needed was to attract the law, or bounty hunters.

John was trying his best to break past Arthur and wipe the smug grin off of Bill's face, but Arthur was sober and bigger than him, and wasn't going to budge. "John… John! Tell me what happened?" Arthur raised his voice, yanking John away from the table. "You can't be starting fights, John, and you sure as hell can't bring guns into it when you do, so, what happened?" He scolded, keeping a firm grip on John's biceps to hold him in place. "He said he knew why we were gone so long, he said he knew what happened," John babbled, slurring messily and wiping his eyes. "So? What does he know? How much does he know?" Arthur questioned, helping the swaying man to sit on the grass. "Nothing, the damn idiot thinks we were out in the woods messing around for three days, thinks that's why I was keeping my neck covered." John rambled quietly, avoiding eye contact. "That's all? John, who cares? That's better than him knowing what's really going on. Don't listen to him, you know how he is, he'll find some other gossip to latch onto, and nobody will say another thing about it." Arthur smiled, brushing the grime and sweat from John's cheeks. "You need to stay out of the sun, let's get you back to the tent, yeah?" Arthur suggested, giving John no time to disagree before pulling him towards the tent.

When Arthur got John settled back down, he prodded for more answers, asking what got him so upset, what part of the situation made him think a gun was the solution, and so forth. John replied with a string of 'I don't know' and 'I don't remember', shrugging through the half baked interrogation. "It's stupid anyway, us? Together? You hate my guts, Morgan, you always have." John cracked a fake grin, sprawling on his stomach and running a hand across the trinkets on his nightstand. "That's true, ain't it?" He hummed, catching a certain look in Arthur's eyes that he couldn't put his finger on. "Whatever you say, John, just shut up for once." Arthur shot back, combing through the other's hair with his fingers. "Oh…" John sighed, breath laced with the smell of whiskey and spice. "That's why you look so sore, how about you make me shut up, then?" He beamed with the same smugness that Arthur used to hate him for. Did he ever actually hate him? Arthur couldn't remember anymore. He wanted to kiss John, he wanted to make that cocky smile melt against his lips, he wanted to tangle his fist in that ebony hair and pull John close, he wanted to consume him. Instead, he slapped him, a swift cuff to the back of the head. "Shut up, John, go to sleep."

Arthur left John to rest and sober back up, and decided to do a bit of damage control. He cleaned up the mess John and Bill made, straightened up and put away bottles and weapons, banishing all thoughts of John from his mind. He managed to find Bill and Javier playing cards, and he was right, Bill had moved on, he never stayed on one topic for long. "Is everything good between you and John?" Arthur asked, pulling up a chair and spectating. "I've got better uses of my time than picking on Marston, you know that, he's a damn spitfire, though, better keep him away from the whiskey, especially when he's armed." Bill drawled through the cigar he was chewing, spreading his cards across the table. "Flush, beat that." He hooted, abandoning the conversation. Arthur shrugged it off and accepted it, he didn't give a damn as long as there wouldn't be any more trouble, they were all lucky that this was one of the first times Dutch had dared wander away from camp, or they'd all be as good as dead.

Arthur was exhausted, from John and Bill, from his emotions, from being snapped awake so abruptly, he was just relieved that he knew where John was, and that he knew the other wasn't going to be starting any trouble while he was sleeping. He didn't know who to talk to about this, he was embarrassed, he didn't know if there was anything to talk about, really. Was he falling for John? Maybe he was just confused, maybe he was tired and it was all messing with his head. He hoped so. He tracked Abigail and Jack down and greeted them, Abigail looked just as frazzled as he felt, Jack didn't seem too bothered by anything, busting himself with flower picking. "Oh, Arthur, you look like a dead man walking, how long has it been since you've slept?" She asked, dog-earing a page in her book and putting it to the side. "Ah, Abigail, I'm alright, you know I always am, I slept good enough." Arthur sighed humbly, scratching his nape. Abigail didn't look very impressed with the answer, she could always see through whatever front Arthur put up, he figured it was because she was a mother, and on top of that, had spent so much time with John, the best there was at bullshitting.

Abigail poured a glass of water and slid it over, giving Arthur the 'tell me everything' look as she settled back down. "Ah, well, John's good at stirring up trouble, you know that, seems like he can't stay out of it most days." He started off, pausing to drink, more out of needing time to think than actual thirst. Abigail nodded to his words and snickered behind a hand, she knew John better than anyone else, she knew very well that he could be a fool just as much as he could be a charmer. "Cut to the chase, Mr. Morgan, I know that him raising cain isn't all that's eating at you." She urged, leaning forward to get a better look at the man. She was too sharp for her own good, she had always been smart as a whip and nobody could get around that. "I've been thinking a lot, I don't know exactly what about, I'm definitely not used to feeling this way, and you know more than most that John works on my last nerve almost daily-" Arthur paused, rolling the glass between his palms as he contemplated his next words. It felt wrong to talk about these things, especially with Abigail, but he guessed she would be the one person that could relate, so he worked himself back up to speaking. "I know this is plum stupid, and that I should forget about it and move on past it, but… I think I'm sweet on him, Abigail."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insight on Abigail and John's status, Arthur attempts to confess his feelings to John

Abigail had left things well with John, she had known for a long time that she wasn't his soulmate, nor he hers, and she was at peace with that, he had given her Jack, and there wasn't much more she wanted from the man. He was still a good man, and a much better friend than husband, this way, he was still in their son's life and hers without either of them feeling trapped. Abigail not only accepted the separation, but enjoyed it, she didn't miss the forced intimacy, to be clear, John never seemed interested beyond a certain instinct, he was a ladies' man, but he could never keep a partnership with one, he enjoyed being in their beds, but not staying long enough to nest in their hearts. John had issues with commitment and with letting anyone get too close, everyone knew it, Abigail was one of the only people he had been vulnerable for, and even that wasn't enough to make a connection. They were not bitter about the way things ended, they were both pleasant still, and preferred this, it gave Abigail more time to worry about other things and John more time to sort himself out.

She was intuitive, catching on to things before even John did, Arthur's confession came as no surprise to her, just as it wouldn't have surprised her if John had admitted it first. The men loved their games, spitting insults and throwing drunken punches at each other every other day, but any fool could see past that, Abigail new it was all a front, walls they had built up to hide their real emotions. That's just how men were, raised up to bury their feelings with their bones, that's why she was raising Jack differently, letting the boy feel and express as much as he needed. When it came down to it, Abigail found men to be silly. She held Arthur's hands as he forced the words from his lips, smiling proudly as he abandoned his natural need to shove any weakness or softness deep down into the pit of his stomach. Arthur had always been different from the other men, his father had beat it into him that weakness was not acceptable, and beyond that, Dutch had continued that belief, although without violence, but Arthur sometimes would rebel against the teachings, always sparing a bit of his genuine heart to others.

He was kind and gentle, even though the world had tried to train him to be vicious and rough. It was just in his nature, he would never be able to buck that. He looked ashamed, like he had committed a cardinal sin just by loving, by showing that he had a morsel of affection for someone in his life. That's how it always felt when he bared his soul to someone, it made him feel sick, always bracing for some sort of godly smite after. God, strike Arthur Morgan down if he ever dares to feel. Abigail pitied him, but knew deep down he could never stay this way, Arthur was soft one way or another, no matter how hard he tried to convince the world otherwise. She stood and helped him to do the same, eyes understanding and adoring as they had ever been. "Arthur, it's alright, I know." She whispered, cracking out into a bright smile. It was about time, she had been waiting for eons for either of them to get it through their thick skulls that they felt something for the other. "I don't blame you, but I do feel sorry for you, that John, he sure is a handful." She laughed, setting Arthur at almost immediate ease. How was Abigail still so gentle, after all of this? She never ceased to amaze him.

After the chat, Arthur had a bit more confidence, enough to go see John, but by the time he reached the other man, the newfound conviction had already started to wane. John was awake and half sobered now, Arthur had been sorting out the camp and talking to Abigail for hours, drawing out things much more than he needed to before seeing the other man again. John was shaving his face, something he usually did outside of the tent, but due to his new issues with the sun, he had to settle. He had deep splotches peppering his skin from being out for so long without protection, but it only took an hour for the worst of the blisters to disappear. He cast a fleeting glance at Arthur's reflection in the mirror, gliding his razor across his jaw and erasing lines of shaving cream with each stroke. "I see you're feeling better, Marston." Arthur announced, spectating without much else to say. "Mhm, turns out with my, ah, affliction, I don't stay drunk as long either, who knew," John hummed, scrunching his mouth to the left as he continued clearing away his stubble. Arthur tilted his head in interest, at the statement and the display, John was oblivious to how good-looking he could be, he could kill Arthur like this.

John cleaned the blade and wiped the residue from his face, his steely eyes meeting Arthur's. "So, what are you wanting?" He sighed, running a thumb across his now smooth jawline. "I needed to have a talk with you, and I need you to keep your mouth shut while I do, I need you to just let me say my piece without interruption." Arthur replied, talking too fast for John to get a chance at interrupting. John leaned against his table coolly, propping himself up with his elbows and nodding for Arthur to continue, offering none of his smug quips. Arthur stared at John, hard, so intensely that he almost looked like he might murder him. He trailed his eyes over John's features, finally allowing himself the time to linger. He gave himself the time to want, to truly consider the things he lusted for. John's mouth was always one of the first things to draw his attention, when John was a smartass, hurling out jokes and insults at Arthur's expense, all he wanted to do was shut him up, whether it was by crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else, or pressing his calloused fingers against his lips. Arthur found himself thinking of pressing his fingertips beyond John's teeth, feeling his tongue.

He stopped, interrupting and throwing out the ideas so he could have a chance to speak without rushing out. "I spoke with Abigail, I think it's right foolish to keep pretending like this, and I think you know that too, I know you aren't as clueless as you like to act." He sighed, picking the skin of his knuckles as he tried to figure out what else he needed to say, how to say it. "I care about you, I always have, and I've always given you a hard time because of it, because I can't risk getting close anymore. You know as well as I do that men like us aren't built for pleasantries and civil discussion, the world doesn't mind picking us off, and it isn't worth it to have things torn down just as you build them up," He mumbled, gaze like stone as he moved it towards John's boots. He'd grown to hate the way the world treated men like them, there was barely a place for them, and that place kept getting smaller as the world evolved, they were expendable. This was a bitter reminder to Arthur, this wasn't a good idea, attachment always led to pain, it wouldn't be fair to either of them.

Arthur ran his hands through his hair, palms pressing into his forehead momentarily as he tried to kickstart his thoughts again. He decided that a partial truth that only affected him was better than the full truth, which would surely damn both of them. "Nobody else knows your secret, when I talked to Abigail I made sure not to say anything about it, my point is… I care about you, and I'll do whatever I can to make sure this stays between the two of us, I'm gonna protect you." He finished in a hushed voice. A vague look of disappointment crossed John's face, he didn't know what he was expecting, he knew what he had wanted to happen, but he didn't expect it. He wanted some spectacular moment where Arthur confessed his love and asked him to be his. He knew it wasn't going to happen, but it still stung that he was right. It wasn't all bad, he supposed, at least he knew Arthur still had his back, even if it wasn't a romantic sort of loyalty, he could appreciate that. "Thank you for telling me, Arthur, and thanks for keeping this a secret," John attempted to sound more grateful than he felt, and Arthur tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing.

Arthur left in a hurry, he needed to be alone after his failed admission, he was kicking himself for it, and he didn't think he would ever stop. He trudged back to his own tent and shoved his boots off, peeling off his socks after. He practically collapsed onto his bed, making quick work of his clothes until he was down to his thermals. He thought about how he might have handled things better, or how he might have handled them worse, things always had room to be worse, at least he hadn't ruined too much with John during their talk, as far as he knew, things had just stayed the same as they always were. He slipped beneath his sheets and closed his eyes, thoughts and heart racing, there was one constant that he couldn't keep off his mind, John. He cursed himself for not telling him, he wished he wasn't so hesitant to let himself enjoy things, the fear of his happiness being taken away wasn't worth avoiding happiness altogether anymore. He stopped trying to push the ideas away, he let them come, and he didn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter won't be entirely necessary for plot but there will be explicit themes, so if you don't wish to read that, you can skip it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional chapter!! Not plot relevant, explicit content!

Arthur welcomed the thoughts he had been denying all this time, letting ideas of John fill him. He started with his eyes, they were easy to get lost in, he could drown in them effortlessly. John had no idea how powerless he could make people, he knew he was attractive, but he was unaware of the extent. His eyes were fierce, he had a fire dwelling in them, even when he was calm, his eyes stayed sparking with energy, it was almost like someone had combined a roaring storm and a wildfire in his irises, they were always intense. Arthur adored the moments when John let him stare, let him get lost in his eyes. His mind wandered to John's mouth again, picking up where he left off when he was gawking over John. He always wanted to shut John up, he loved to hear the man run his mouth, but more than anything he wanted to quiet him, to kiss him hard and make him choke on his words, to push his rough fingers against and past John's lips, wetting them on his tongue and feeling his whines rumble through his bones.

He jumped between thoughts of pressing his face against the crook of John's neck, kissing and nipping sloppily at his soft skin, and tying John up to leave him begging. He wondered if John would ever let him do it, if John would take to being dominated. Arthur was almost sure that John acted the way he did because he wanted someone to put him in his place, to make him shut up when he went too far. He wondered if John wanted punishment, and the suggestion pushed him even further. "Christ…" He sighed lowly, tangling his fingers up in his sheets to keep his hands busy. He thought about it, being the one to bring John down, being the one to fluster and embarrass the man when he ran his mouth. Would John like being manhandled? Arthur hoped so, deep down, he prayed that was a possibility. He would have loved to show power over John, he entertained the idea of punishing him, pulling the coverings from his supple ass and landing blows with an open palm. He imagined John, helpless and writhing, in denial of his arousal, lying to himself about enjoying the discipline. Arthur laughed breathlessly at all the scenarios flying through his brain, some of them were ridiculous, hell, most of them were, but they excited him.

He returned to tamer thoughts, back to John's features, his hair, he wanted to caress it just as much as he wanted to bury his hands in it and pull, he wished so badly to take a handful of John's locks and yank his head back to bare his neck. He yearned to trail his tongue over the new, small craters on John's neck, tracing them and feeling him shudder beneath his touch. His hand trailed below his waist, brushing over his erection. He forced his hips to be still, he didn't want to rush this, he wanted to savor it for once. He imagined John, his smart mouth, the man was a brat, and Arthur lived for it. He cherished the idea of bringing John to his knees, shutting him up with his cock, John was the type of man who looked like he knew how to give ungodly head, Arthur was sure the man knew a million things to do with that silver tongue of his. Arthur hurriedly wet his palm with spit and shoved it past his underclothes. He clamped his free hand over his mouth, the other now fisting his cock with graceless abandon. He grunted lowly against his hand, breath hot against his skin. He wished he had told John, right there, said he loved him, just to see that dumbstruck look John got whenever Arthur let him in on secrets.

John was beautiful and Arthur wanted to wreck him, he wanted to have John lose all composure, quivering beneath him. No woman could compare, he was always careful with women, considerate and always making sure they were taken care of, John was different, he wanted to break him, edge him to the brink of tears, then bring him right back down, he wanted to have the man begging for him while he teased over his prick or pumped into him just gently enough to drive him mad, maybe just fucking him roughly while John's nails bit into his back and raked angry red lines across his skin. He let out heavy huffs of breath, his heart rate growing quicker with his hand. He raised his hips upward, and just as he felt his release approach, he jerked his hand away, leaving his body shuddering with disappointment. He bucked against the air for a bit of relief, sighing quietly as he began to come down. He ignored the sharp throbbing until it dulled, unwinding and curling in on himself. Every once in awhile, Arthur would deny himself, whether it was because he felt undeserving, or because he enjoyed the craving it caused, the longer he denied himself, the better he felt when he finally allowed himself to finish.

After several minutes of laying still, he lazily ran his fingers over his shaft, eyes growing heavy as he began to feel tired. His hand fumbled at a decent enough pace, which worked as well as it needed to when he coupled it with thrusting. He finished with a sharp inhale and particularly harsh spasm, his seed spattering over the sheets. He pushed the soiled bedding to the floor and burrowed under the untouched blanket, breath beginning to settle back to a comfortable tempo. He felt clueless, unsure if it was necessary to feel guilty for this, especially when he failed to express how he felt to John when he had the chance, it was ridiculous for him to be so worked up over it. He drew his pillow close to his chest and let his worrying come to a halt for now. He knew he was going to tell John eventually, and there was no sense in trying to hide it forever. He figured the quicker he let it go, the better, so he made the decision to speak with John again the next morning, no more bullshit, no more hiding. He fell asleep feeling a bit more peace than he had in awhile.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an admission, Arthur reveals the truth to John

Arthur hesitated getting up the next morning, knowing that if he did, he would have to keep the promise he made himself the previous night. He was going to tell John, whether he was ready or not. He left his tent, half-dressed, and washed up, making sure to get the dirt from beneath his nails and tidy his hair, he couldn't remember the last time he put so much effort into his appearance. He returned to his space and dug through his trunk, plucking out his best clothes, dark slacks and a white collared shirt. He looked hopelessly out of place, but it's hard to clean up nice and fit in at the same time when you live with criminals. Dutch would be proud at the very least, he was all about appearances, Arthur had taken some inspiration from him while getting dressed, though taking a less theatrical approach. He rubbed pomade between his palms and styled his damp hair, slicking it back and giving himself a quick once over before heading off to find John. He checked both John's tent, then Abigail's, with absolutely no luck.

John was by a creek, laying in the shade and thinking. Arthur was a bad liar, even worse than John, and he knew something was up. He couldn't fathom why Arthur was suddenly being so kind, he hadn't called him an idiot or told him to fuck off for a long while, it wasn't like him. John knew he was annoying, and he loved to irritate people if he knew that he could get to them. He traced over a fading burn, reminding himself that he needed to be more careful. The sunlight wouldn't kill him, but he was much more sensitive to it now, his skin was vulnerable to small amounts, he couldn't stay out of the shade for more than a handful of minutes. He closed his eyes, trying to mentally gather more clues as to what was going on. He heard some twigs and leaves crunch and suddenly it was much darker, sunlight no longer filtering through the shade onto him. "John, why're you all the way out here?" Arthur questioned, kneeling next to the other man. John stopped himself from jolting up, instead opening his eyes and peering at Arthur's face, taking in his gentle features.

He wasn't much for eye contact, so he lowered his sight to the scar on Arthur's chin. He'd wanted to feel it for years, he would probably never get the chance. "What are you all dressed up for? Are you about to be hanged, Morgan?" John snorted, sitting up on his elbows. "Seriously, I've never seen you like this," He continued, cursing whichever lucky broad Arthur had tidied up for. He was jealous. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Arthur hummed, helping John to sit up. "I actually came out here to find you, I looked everywhere in camp, finally got some information from Jack," He explained, twirling the stem of a leaf between his fingers. "That dirty double-crosser," John laughed, pushing his hair back. "Why were you looking for me?" He prodded, ultimately meeting Arthur's eyes, feeling the intent behind them. "I should've told you yesterday, I was gonna, but I couldn't bring myself to say it," Arthur started, leaning back and watching the water in front of them. "I don't hate you, John, I didn't know how I felt, especially recently, but, well, I've been feeling some kind of way about you lately." He struggled to reach his point, praying John would understand before he had to say it.

John felt a spark in his heart, flutters in the pit of his stomach, actually, he didn't quite know what he felt, but he knew it excited him. He straightened, now giving Arthur his undivided attention, blood rising to his face and warming his skin. "I care about you, I… care for you? I talked to Abigail, and I want you, to be with you, fuck, stop lookin' at me like that, John," Arthur grumbled, words flooding out faster than he could comprehend or plan them. A smile tugged at John's face as soon as Arthur started speaking again, he couldn't force it down, as hard as he was trying, but he figured that shouldn't matter, the other man liked him. His fangs protruded past his lip, making his smile somehow even more charming, Arthur was weak for him. John saw the blush creeping in on Arthur's own face and wanted to kiss him, wanted to drain the color from his cheeks, he wasn't hungry, just gushing. He decided to take his chance, planting a clumsy kiss on Arthur's chin, teeth bumping onto his skin. Arthur dipped a bit lower, catching John's lips and raising his hands after a moment to push the man's face away.

So, this was happening, this was real. Arthur tested his rough thumbs over John's cheekbones, staring into his eyes with a deep fire. John was beautiful, how could he not see it before? He made Arthur feel alive, there was a rush he hadn't felt from any heist or lover, it was all new, he wished the feeling would stay forever. John felt as though he might melt into a puddle beneath Arthur's touch, he couldn't pry his eyes away, he was lost and he loved it. "Will you have me?" Arthur asked breathlessly, already bracing to be turned down, it was all too good to be true. "Are you stupid? Of course," John grinned, teeth flashing boldly. Arthur momentarily slumped, having expected refusal so strongly that he hadn't heard John's answer immediately, but when he processed it, he matched John's excitement. "Good… why were you out here anyway?" Arthur huffed, sliding his hands to John's shoulders before releasing him. "Trying to figure out what you were up to, sneaking around, getting that dumb look on your face anytime you saw me," John replied, smile never faltering. "Good to know I was half right, you were interested in someone, didn't know it was me, though." He continued, curling his fingers around Arthur's hand.

Arthur now had a new predicament, he had to make sure he wouldn't rush into things or come on too strong, the last thing he wanted or needed was to scare John away, he wanted this to work. John was thinking something along the same lines, but every nerve in his body was telling him to devour Arthur, to kiss him, to hold him, to take him to bed, but he pushed away the thoughts, there would be plenty of time to do all the things he wanted, he needed to be patient. The men got to their feet and lumbered back up the steep path, away from the creek, neither one sure of what to do next. After a brief walk back to camp, John piped up, curling his fingers into Arthur's sleeve. "Do you wanna go someplace private later and talk about this some more?" He murmured, smoothing over a fang with his tongue to soothe himself. Arthur nodded silently, leading John over to his tent and gathering some gear. "We should go on a hunt in a bit, it would give us more time to talk, and you're looking hungry," He explained, holstering his pistol. "Lenny mentioned seeing some O'Driscoll men a ways away from here, so you'll need to keep an eye out with me." He added, sliding a packet of rations over. "This should tide you over for now."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur teaches John to swim, they have a picnic

Once they got the go-ahead from Dutch, the two set off, both sharing Arthur's mare. John snaked his arms around the larger man's stomach and leaned into him, cheek resting on his shoulder. It was relaxing to just ride along and let someone else lead the way, it didn't hurt that he was able to hold onto Arthur at the same time. Arthur guided the horse to a lake, hitching it with enough slack for it to wander a bit around the tree, then helped John down. The sun wasn't set yet, but the sky was much more dim, which pleased John, it meant he didn't have to be so cautious with his skin. Arthur fed his horse and brushed the dust from her mane, instructing John to scout for rabbits or deer. John headed off, footsteps swift and light, searching for their dinner. He found a set of tracks he identified as rabbit and followed them, searching for more signs of the animal. When Arthur finished setting up, he went after John, hoping to help, it took a few minutes to catch up, but he managed. John heard him and thrust a hand out to stop him from approaching, hoping he hadn't scared away the animal. Arthur pulled out his rifle slowly, setting up to aim, but John already had a plan of his own. John bounded towards the rabbit like a wild dog, though it was just a few yards away, Arthur was amazed by how quickly John landed the hare.

He decided from that point on to keep track of the changes John was going through, so far he had; sensitivity to sunlight, incredible speed, and those handsome teeth. He was about to congratulate the man, but John surprised him once more by gnashing his teeth, sinking them into the rabbit's fur and draining the small beast. Arthur fell quiet, in awe at how feral John seemed in that moment, if it were a Leech, he would have been disgusted, but somehow what John was doing seemed almost graceful. He gave the man his space, allowing him to feed for as long as he needed, and in turn, John tossed the limp rabbit to Arthur's feet. He was trembling, excited and terrified, Arthur empathized. John hoped that witnessing this hadn't changed Arthur's mind, he didn't want the other to see him like this, but it would have happened eventually, he supposed. Arthur placed his hands beneath John's underarms, lifting him to his feet, then collecting the dead animal. "Well, I guess dinner is taken care of, yeah?"

John observed Arthur as he cooked, laying on his side with his head propped up in his palm. Sweat rolled down Arthur's forehead and dripped from the tip of his nose, being cleared every few minutes with a handkerchief. He looked deep in thought, and he was, he was conflicted by what he had seen, not in a negative way, he was just caught up in his own head. He didn't know why he was so excited by what John had done, maybe it was because it was new and unexpected, maybe he was confusing fear with intrigue. He didn't really care, whether it was by gunshot or bite, they had something to eat, and Arthur couldn't complain about that. He sliced the meat, offering a hunk to John. He expected the man to take it with his own fingers and eat, John was too sensual for that, he leaned up and took the piece between his teeth, knowing what that move would do to Arthur. What he hadn't taken into account was that Arthur could be just as charming, he knew how to be smooth as well. He slid the pad of his thumb across John's lips, cleaning the little bits of seasoning away.

John smiled beneath Arthur's finger and pulled back to get a better look at him. He hadn't noticed until recently how often Arthur tried to fluster him, it usually worked. Hell, it always worked. They packed away whatever hadn't been eaten in Arthur's satchel and moved closer to the lake, discarding their boots and sliding their feet in as they sat on the bank. Arthur lifted his shirt away after fumbling with a few buttons, setting it by his boots. "I feel like taking a dip, do you mind?" He smiled gently, rising to his feet. Swimming was a sore topic with John, he didn't know how, and it had always gotten to him, he hated that he had never learned to. He shrugged, hoping Arthur would just make it quick so they could continue their little rendezvous. Arthur shimmied out of his slacks and glanced towards John, grinning sheepishly. "You better catch up Johnny-boy, just trust me," He chuckled, stepping into the water and inching further until it lapped at his knees. John felt anxious, he wasn't a fan of water, he was less than comfortable with the idea of trying to swim again, he had become skittish, too many incidents when he was a stubborn child, he was sure it was a skill he could never obtain.

Alas, John would probably throw himself down a mountain for Arthur, so he complied, stripping down to near nothing and meeting Arthur in the murky water. "Alright, and you know I still can't do anything, right?" John huffed, humiliation creeping up on him. "John, I told you to trust me, I won't let you get hurt, lay back and I'll hold you, the water won't even touch your face," Arthur promised, holding his arms out invitingly. The smaller man relented and laid back, tense even with Arthur's warm hands pressing on his upper back and the backs of his thighs. "Relax, I'm not letting go, not a chance," He whispered, moving a bit deeper until the water reached his waist. He kept John on the surface all the way, happy when he felt the tension slipping from him. "There you go, you've got it," Arthur praised, letting his hands fall gradually away from John's back. John was unaware of the sudden lack of touch, skimming his fingers through the water idly, he didn't trust himself to open his eyes. Arthur kept close, making sure there wasn't a chance of John slipping beneath the surface, even if the water was shallow, he didn't want to make the man anxious. "I told you, you did it, you just never gave yourself the chance to learn."

John eased his eyes open and took in everything he felt, the water was calm, Arthur's hands were gone. He felt a brief spike of panic, but forced it away, knowing that the last thing he needed was to thrash around, so he laid still and let Arthur guide his arms. After a few minutes, John managed to get the hang of it himself, gliding his arms to move around, propelling lightly as he floated. Arthur followed along beside him to make sure nothing happened, giving him soft lines of encouragement. "I know it's not much, but it's a start, and I reckon the water feels good on your skin too." Arthur hummed, turning to float beside John. "You better not let me sink, Morgan, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life," John piped up, anxiety slowly beginning to melt away. Arthur gave him a soft splash and chuckled thickly, his voice reminded John of honey, sweet and rich, made him feel safer without effort. Arthur knew when John was pushed too far or beginning to feel drained, so when that time came, he led John back to the shallow end of the lake, low enough for them to sit, the water settling over their hips.

John appreciated Arthur doing something like this for him, he was too headstrong to ask anyone for help, he was a grown man, so he naturally felt ashamed to admit his shortcomings, especially with something that came to most of his colleagues so easily. He curled against Arthur's side and pressed a firm kiss against his neck before slumping back down. "Tired already? Do you want to head back to camp?" Arthur asked, not wanting to push John too far. He wrapped a strong arm around the man, hoping to warm him up a bit, since the bite John was always a bit colder than usual. John shrugged and yawned, jaw popping quietly as it stretched. "As long as I can bunk with you, wherever is fine, I wanna give this a shot, harder to sleep alone when you have the option not to," He rambled, standing sluggishly and offering a hand to help Arthur up. "You can stay in my tent, or I could stay in yours, you have the bigger bed, still don't know how you swung that," Arthur answered, pulling his slacks back on. He didn't bother with his shirt, and instead offered it to John so he could make absolutely sure the other man stayed warm. They headed back to camp after they were dressed and had their belongings packed back up. John smiled the whole way.


End file.
